Children of the Dawn by Patricia Rowe Read Free Book Online Page A

of their leaders. But they were
     stiff and ready to fight.
    “Our people don’t seem to like each other, Tor. I wonder what you are going to do now?”
    Tor looked unsure of himself—a look Tsilka had seldom seen. He took a deep breath, waved his arm toward the ring of stones.
    “Ashan… ” he said, and his voice sounded lost.
    Oh, the look on his face!
Something inside Tsilka broke with awful pain, as the man she loved gazed at another woman in a way she had only dreamed
     of.
    “My Ashan knew what to do, but she’s on a journey with spirits. My little sister is the Other Moonkeeper, but I don’t think
     she even knows we’re here.” He cleared his throat. “It’s up to me now.”
    Stinking meat!
Tsilka thought, as rage battled searing pain.
It was Tor’s other woman, his
Shahala
woman, whose death made him senseless with grief!
Bitterness twisted her as she stared at the body lying in the stone circle.
    Something made her wonder if the woman was really dead.
    Longest Hair,
she thought, trying with her focused energy to bore a hole into the enemy’s head.
I want this man. If you’re not dead already, die now. Do you hear me? Die!
    Tor said, “Tsilka, I need your help.”
    Why should I help you,
she thought, but only for a moment. There were many ways to snare a man. A smart woman used them all. Tsilka reached out.
    “Take my hand, Tor. You and I must stand together as one, as the leader of all these people.”
    He just stood there.
    “Take my hand,” she commanded, “or many will die today.”
    With his son safe, Tor just wanted to sit by Ashan again, to find her journeying spirit, and be there for her when she was
     ready to come back.
    But Eagle from the Light, Tor’s spirit name taken when he was seven summers, also meant Brings Messages. Remembering this,
     he took Tsilka’s hand, not flinching from the sparks it threw into his, and—
no he must not remember when they’d loved like cats
—he thrust their clasped hands high.
    “Hear me!” he shouted. “Kah cheat!”
    Tor’s eyes traveled, striking face after unsmiling face. Suspicion and hostility glared back. Everyone knew him, although
     in different ways. To the Tlikit, he was a god—or a slave. To the Shahala, he was the Moonkeeper’s kidnapper—or the hero who
     rescued her from man-eaters and returned her to the tribe.
Pride of the Shahala; the Evil One. Water Giver; slave. One woman’s mate, another’s lover.
    Holding the hand of his greatest mistake, the man who was many spoke in Tlikit.
    “Sahalie wants people to spread out in the world and mix their blood, so we do not die out like mammoths and horses. The Creator
     brought us all here to Mother River to live as one tribe. Reunited—Tlikit and Shahala, children of the same Father, brothers
     and sisters to each other.”
    Then he repeated it in his own language, using the name “Amotkan” instead of “Sahalie.”
    The Tlikit responded with shaking heads, angry looks, grumbles, and snarls; the Shahala with stiff backs, readyspears, the arrogance of greater numbers. Tor saw that many in each tribe did not care what the Creator wanted.
    “Listen to him! He speaks the truth!” Tsilka shouted, but it did not stop her people from muttering.
    Tor went on in a louder voice, waving his hand—the one not holding Tsilka’s—toward Ashan.
    “This woman inside these stones—she seems to be dead, but is not. You have reason to fear her. This woman has more power than
     I. She is the Moonkeeper who speaks with the spirits. She journeys with them now, to talk about this great coming together
     of tribes. She will be chief when she returns, chief over
everyone.
You will be happy that it is so. You will love her.”
    At these words, Tsilka stiffened at Tor’s side. He released her hand—almost threw it away—glad to be rid of the hot, tight
     grip of her—and went on about Ashan.
    “Like a mother she is to her people, and like a daughter. She is Ashan, Whispering Wind, Song of